On Luck
by Mary James
Summary: George Luz thinks about the war. Rated for language and some violent imagery.


**Author's Note & Disclaimer: **So I wrote just a general Luz fic, because I should really just admit that he's my soul mate. Anyway, there's some angsty Luz and some happy Luz. With appearances by Perconte, Talbert, Speirs, and George's lovely future wife Del is mentioned as well. Also, the dialogue between he and Talbert is lifted right from the scene in "Points". None of the characters are mine and no disrespect is meant towards the real men.

_On Luck_

Some people are able to find a good time wherever they go. Luck follows them, creating a wake of laughter and disbelief as they pass between friends and onlookers. They walk into the pubs at just the right time, get in on the best card games with the perfect hands, and fall into just the right circumstances with just the right people.

George Luz thinks he makes his own luck, his own good times. It doesn't follow him, he likes to believe, it comes outta nowhere when he arrives. He brings it with him.

* * *

He considers the idea of luck a lot in Bastogne. He dodges bullets, manages to find cover with alarming regularity, and somehow is still whole and breathing. It shouldn't really come as a surprise, he's always had a knack for these things. Gambling, cracking jokes, staying alive.

In Bastogne though, sittin' in the Bois Jacques freezin' their asses off, it often feels like staying alive has become too much to bear.

He watches Heffron shut down and harden after Julian gets it on patrol, he offers Buck reassurances that the man doesn't seem to hear, and he sees what everyone else is feeling in Malarkey's eyes after Skip and Penk get hit.

Luz feels it too.  
He feels like his heart stops when that shell hits Muck and Penkala, right where he was headed. He feels the bile rise in his throat and he wants to throw up, but the world around him is tilting and exploding and he has to move _now_.  
It hurts to say it aloud, when Lip can't quite hear him, and he has to yell out the truth that he would rather not think about.

So it sits in the back of his mind, and Luz lights another cigarette and tries to forget.

* * *

Perco talks about his girl a lot, it makes him think of Del back in Rhode Island. And he discovers that as much of a comfort as the memory of a girl is, it's also just one more ache in a soldier's overburdened heart.

He feels bad for the poor girl, she deserves better than to be worrying about his sorry ass all the time. And it's not like he hasn't chased after everything in a skirt that's come his way so far.  
Sometimes he forgets to write her, but most of his letters are just scribbled down replies anyway, written when he has a few moments to himself.

He decides, in that church in Rachamps, that when he gets back home he is going to buy Del the biggest goddamn ring he can afford. And then a house. And then maybe a hammock.

* * *

Tab is twitching, and slapping the cards with too much aggression. Luz can read the tension in his movements and watches him carefully over his own hand.

Honestly, he doesn't blame him. This replacement guy is a piece of shit, and deserves every hit he's taking in there, but Luz doesn't want no part in it. He's had enough blood on his hands, thank you very much. And after Landsberg, he hasn't felt much like hurting anyone anymore. But Talbert, who is becoming an anxious mess, is getting on his nerves.

"I don't know who's taken a bigger beatin', me or him." Luz lights another cigarette as Tab shuffles the cards impatiently.  
"Wanna play a different game?" he's watching the men inside, and Luz can hear that sickening fist on flesh sound from out in the foyer.  
"Same game. Just shuffle 'em up good eh?"

Talbert slams the cards down and grimaces, and for a minute Luz thinks he's gonna snap and go off on him or something.  
"You alright?"  
"Yeah I'm alright." Talbert doesn't seem to even convince himself.  
"You wanna go in there and join in?"  
Tab sighs and relaxes a little, leaning back in his chair. "I should go in there and stop this."  
Luz looks at him. "Floyd, let's just play cards alright?" And Tab gives him a little nod.

It's too late for the prick anyway, because Speirs comes strolling in, gun in hand, seconds later and he and Tab are both on their feet while the CO is screaming at them.

He thinks he knows what will happen, Speirs is bearing down on the guy, gun in his face, so Luz hangs back. So when he doesn't hear that shot, part of him breathes a little sigh of relief. And he understands when Speirs tells them Grant is alive.

Grant lives, the replacement lives. They both got lucky, Luz figures.

* * *

Things calm down a bit, after that. After all, Austria is full of sun and warm beds and blondes. Oh and alcohol, he wasn't about to forget the alcohol.

He is pleasantly drunk, laying in the sunshine, watching the smoke curl up from his cigarette. He's warm, and contemplating dozing off for awhile, because really, what the hell else were they supposed to do?

"Hey George, gimme a cigarette." Perconte says from somewhere beside him, and tosses his bottle aside.  
"Ahh, fuck off Perco. I only got two more left!" He fishes his pack out of his pocket anyway and Perconte grabs his lighter.

There's the click and snap of the lighter, and Perconte sighs a little, and Luz drunkenly chuckles to himself.

"That was the best fucking bottle of champagne I have ever had." Perconte says, dreamily, his face tilted up towards the sun. "You think there's still more?" he sits up on his elbows.

Luz tries to remember Göring's stash, and how much they took with them into Austria, how much they've drank…but everything slips away from him. Slips away like his life before this war, like so many of his friends, like all those dead Krauts. Slips away from him like this goddamn war. And shit if he ain't suddenly so tired there isn't a bone in his body that doesn't ache.

"George! Hey!" Frank is waving a hand in Luz's face.  
"Ah shut up Frank and just relax will ya?" Luz grumbles, his eyes still closed. Perconte snorts but quiets down.

They both lay back in silence, the shouts and laughter from the guys nearby, probably out by the lake, drifting up to them occasionally.

"Hey, you know what I just realized George?"  
"What's that Frank?"  
"You never got hit. I mean I got fuckin' shot in the ass, but you made it through without a scratch!"

Luz thinks about this for a moment, contemplating his mortality while intoxicated.

"Yeah, without a scratch." He sighs, feeling that guilt nagging at him, and finishes his cigarette. "Guess I'm just lucky."

Perconte grumbles something about his sore ass, and Luz can't help but grin. He'll be home soon, and that life he knows he had will be waiting. But right now he's gonna sleep like the dead, in a sunny Austrian field, drunk on Nazi champagne. The sky here is so blue it hurts, and if life ain't good, than it's at least okay.  
'Lucky my ass.' He thinks to himself, but cracks a smile. He always has been.


End file.
